


Under Starry Skies

by space_narwhals



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Overwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_narwhals/pseuds/space_narwhals
Summary: Of course, all-nighters are harsh, as Akihiko sorely knows. But tonight, Misaki is able to bring him the calm and peace he desperately needs.





	Under Starry Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Hi...  
> This is my first fanfic for Junjou (I’m a bit of a latecomer to the fandom, I think) so I would appreciate any comments and criticisms anyone has for this - don’t be afraid to say what you think. It’s just a short little thing, but I hope you enjoy it! -Eve 
> 
> Disclaimer - Junjou Romantica and the characters used in this story belong to Shungiku Nakamura.

The stars glistened as they dangled, suspended, in the deep indigo sky. Below, a faint hum followed amber specks that trawled along the webs of the city, which formed a soothing melody to accompany the scenery. In synchrony, pixels of white light flickered out as what was once lively and bustling was lulled into a peaceful sleep.

The harsh, blinding light of the laptop screen succeeded yet again to draw an anguished groan from the exhausted novelist. Akihiko shuffled uncomfortably backwards to pull himself out of a slouching position and ran a cold hand through his tousled ash-grey hair, allowing it to fall limply over his sullen face, devoid of youth.

Writing undoubtedly felt a million times worse at night.

His irises glowed a chromatic purple as the letters printed on the screen burned painfully into his retinas, staining his vision an unnatural hue of blue. Weakly, from lack of substantial nutrition, his fingers elicited a cackle from the keyboard. Each key was indifferent to the shiver it sent down the author's spine upon touch.

For hours on end, Akihiko typed mindlessly, his rusty joints clicking like gears upon each robotic movement. The anger-fuelled words of his overworked editor, Aikawa, grasped the strings that forced his hands to dance unconsciously over the keyboard; the threat of being slaughtered no longer felt frightening to him, seeming, at this point, to be the painless way out.

The coffee had stopped coming. Instead, if he listened closely enough, Akihiko could hear soft sighs and snores drifting rhythmically from the other room. Removing one hand from the restraints of the keyboard, he allowed it to hover indecisively above the worn cigarette packet containing his last few lifelines of escapism, before bringing it back.

'No,' he told himself firmly. 'I can't let distractions slow me down.'

><><><

Misaki awoke to a sudden thud. Instinctively, his mind raced through numerous possibilities for the cause of the noise. 'Had the door to the bear room finally given way? Was there a burglar in the house? Had Usagi...?' A pained grunt mingled with a sigh of contentment followed, confirming his latter suspicions as he gritted his teeth and prepared to face the bomb-site of an office.

Eerily, the floorboards groaned under each delicate, cautious footstep. Gripping onto the whitewashed doorframe for balance, Misaki gently pushed the office door forwards with his free hand and peered into the darkening abyss. Collapsed across the clutter of papers lay the indiscernible shadow of his boyfriend, with his pale face illuminated by the dull glow of the screen. Blinking to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom, the younger man ventured inside, softly kicking away discarded books and magazines which lay strewn across the floor to create a path through the wasteland.

With an exhausted grunt, he hoisted the limp figure back into a sitting position, where he remained locked in a deep slumber. Swiftly, he turned his attention to the desk, where he snapped shut the offensive laptop and quietly piled up the freshly-printed manuscript. Scanning his eyes over the polished oak surface, he spotted an abandoned, crumbled cigarette box containing a few bent 'cancer sticks', which he instantly pocketed to return to its rightful place - the rubbish bin.

Sighing triumphantly, Misaki returned his attention to Akihiko, who lay splayed in a mangled position across the stiff, deep blue desk chair. His silver strands, illuminated by the weak light through the doorway, lay defeated against his furrowed brow. Even in sleep, the tribulations of life were ingrained in his features. The younger man observed the painfully inflamed skin around the novelist's chewed thumbnail, which remained evidence of his stress and anxiety, and cringed at his own ignorance to the situation.

'No! It's his fault, not mine!' Misaki snapped internally, scolding himself for allowing his emotions to wander.

An almost inaudible sigh escaped Akihiko's lips as his face became contorted with distress, his head twisting slightly. Biting his lip in sorrow, Misaki leant down cautiously to lift the older man's ice-cold feet to rest upon the rim of the cushioned chair seat.

This disturbed Akihiko's peace, and he stirred, adjusting his awkward position so that he sat crouched, hugging his legs tightly to his chest for warmth and resting his forehead upon his knees. Snuggling closer, still asleep, he let out an innocent whimper of defeat as his jaw clenched, before relaxing again.

He seemed child-like; an infant trapped inside a man's body. Or so Misaki caught himself thinking.

><><><

Cautiously, Misaki pushed the chair along the hallway, listening to the rhythmic click of the wheels as they rolled over the floorboards. Previous experiences had taught him not to underestimate how heavy the author was, so he didn't dare attempt to lift him. However, he chuckled inaudibly to himself at how ridiculous he looked as he pushed along the prestigious novelist, the one and only Akihiko Usami, on nothing other than a desk chair.

Softly, Misaki shuffled past the desk chair, Akihiko still snuggled up upon it, to nudge open the door to the bedroom. The hinges complained at the action, groaning under the weight of the door and threatening to stir awake the author. Fortunately, for Misaki’s dignity, he merely shuffled in the chair in his sleep.

Heartlessly, as Akihiko would describe it, Misaki nudged miscellaneous toys across the floor to part a passage for the chair to be pushed through upon entering the room. Reaching the bed, Misaki took a wavering deep breath as he hooked his arms tenderly around his boyfriend. Shocked, Misaki gazed down at Akihiko's clothed chest. Through the layers of cotton, he could distinctly feel his ribcage protruding more than normal; come to think of it, when was the last time he had seen Akihiko eat a proper meal?

Brushing it off as a consequence of his overwork, Misaki transferred the author to the bed, and stood back breathlessly to admire the peacefulness of the figure entranced in a dream.

He bit his lip - it wasn’t often one got to gaze upon such an enchanting, ethereal sight. Akihiko looked nothing but serene as he snuggled under the duvet, enticing Misaki to join. Silently lifting the corner, he climbed in and shuffled towards the other.

From this vantage point, he could make out the distinct bags under his lover’s eyes, the fine wrinkles emerging from the stress, and the chapped terrain of his dry lips.

Although he knew he would adamantly deny such an act in the morning, Misaki’s heart softened enough for him to lean slowly forwards and press a feather-light kiss to Akihiko’s cheek.


End file.
